


The Secrets We Carry

by AndromedaPrime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Adoption, Past Rape/Non-con, past mechpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:03:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5897530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I could have offlined, taking my secret to the AllSpark. Optimus would never have known the truth. Should I tell him?"</p><p>"You should do what your spark says you should do, sir."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secrets We Carry

**Author's Note:**

> Long in mental development, I finally found the motivation to pen this sequel to my previous fic titled [_Choice_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1866963).

_Terror was not an emotion that Ultra Magnus felt often._

_When he saw the form of the loathed leader of the Decepticons hovering over the damaged frame of an injured red and blue soldier on the battlefield, Ultra Magnus felt that emotion, terror, coursing through his systems at a rapid pace._

_He might have given an angry roar. He might not have. Either way, he found himself rushing over to the large grey mech, wielding the legendary Magnus Hammer, calling lightning from the sky as he aimed it at Megatron._

_Lightning struck the Decepticon and he roared. He turned and looked at the large blue and white mech racing toward him, weapon outstretched._

_Magnus hoped that Megatron couldn’t see the terror in his optics._

_“GET-” Magnus whacked Megatron across the face with his Hammer, sending the Decepticon flying. “AWAY-” he surged forward and slammed the handle into Megatron’s midsection, eliciting a pained yell. “FROM HIM!”_

_Megatron snarled as Magnus aimed at him again, and called for a retreat._

_Magnus didn’t wait until the Decepticons had fully retreated before he fell to the ground, dropping the Magnus Hammer to his side, and cradled the broken frame of his son in his arms._

_It was for naught when he called for a medic, for Red Alert or First Aid. His son was dead._

.-.-.

Magnus woke from recharge in a panic, spark pulsing wildly as he reoriented himself to his surroundings. He reached out and gripped the edges of his berth, trying to calm down.

He was in his private quarters. The Magnus Hammer was in its special place, hung on the wall.

The war was over.

Megatron was in exile, far away, and powerless to do anything to them. He couldn’t force him into a merge again. He couldn’t harm the son he’d sired.

Somewhere in the shared dorms of the Elite Guard was Optimus, recharging, unaware that his actual carrier had just experienced a nightmare that included his death.

Magnus sighed and placed his helm in his servos.

It was only a nightmare, he told himself over and over again as he tried to go back into recharge. It wasn't working, however. Finally he decided that he wasn't going to be able to recharge again without assistance.

::Red Alert::

::You're very lucky I'm on night duty. First Aid and I switched our shifts for tonight. What do you need, sir?::

::Something, anything, to help me return to recharge::

::On my way, sir::

Ultra Magnus stared at the ceiling, tapping his digits on the surface of his berth as he waited for the medic to show up and let herself in. When she did, he raised his helm up slightly and met her optics in greeting.

He must have still had the stricken expression on his faceplates, as her harsh optics softened and she walked over to his berthside. “I haven't seen you like this in stellar cycles. What happened?”

“A nightmare. That…that Megatron killed Optimus. And I was powerless to stop him.”

Red Alert sighed and brought out a syringe full of a translucent blue liquid. The sight of the needle made Magnus turn away. He knew he needed it, but Primus he wished that he could take some sort of oral supplement instead.

“It was only a nightmare. If it will put your processor at ease I'll have the guards at the dormitories make sure that Optimus is in berth, recharging.”

“Please do so.”

.-.-.

Once Magnus fell asleep, he was normally a very heavy sleeper. With sedatives and sleeping aids, nothing short of the universe coming to an end could wake him.

He was suddenly jarred from recharge by the sound of loud banging on his door, and multiple voices calling his designation.

“Magnus you there?!”

“Ultra Magnus, we have an emergency on our servos!”

“Sir, we know you’re online!”

The noise grated on his neural net and made him tense up for a few moments before he managed to find his way off the slab of metal and open the door.

Kup, First Aid, and Red Alert were standing at the entrance to his quarters.

Kup chewed on his cigar with a far greater vigor than usual. “Magnus, we got three cadets missin’ from the barracks. They weren’t found a couple hours ago durin’ a random night inspection.”

First Aid nodded. “And there’s a small ship missing from the bay. It would have enough space to hold up to six cadets, so they most likely took it with them.”

Magnus felt a flicker of worry in his spark. “What are their designations? Who is missing?”

Red Alert spoke this time, her optics worried. “Cadets Sentinel, Elita One, and Optimus.”

.-.-.

Archa Seven.

The name of the planet that would have been the burial place of his son, but it was instead the final resting place of Cadet Elita One.

It was a terrible thing to feel, but Ultra Magnus had been relieved when he received a coded message from Red Alert that Optimus was one of the two survivors. His relief was short lived however, as the next solar cycle saw him standing in front of the two mechs, looking down at them from a pedestal.

“Cadet Optimus, Cadet Sentinel, you stand accused of trespassing on an organic planet in violation of Cybertronian law, resulting in the tragic loss of Cadet Elita-1. Before I pronounce judgement, do you have any final statement?”

Sentinel was the first to speak. “I wanted to go back for Elita, sir. But when things got glitchy,” Sentinel turned to glare at the red and blue mech that stood next to him, refusing to meet his gaze, “Optimus cut and ran.”

“So you’ve testified, Cadet, but I suspect there’s more to this story than meets the optic sensor.” Magnus turned to look at Optimus. He wanted to do nothing more than to reach out to his son, but as was usual he had to hold himself back. “Whose idea was it to go to this planet?”

Optimus held his helm high, optics meeting the Magnus’s, and Magnus remembered seeing those optics online for the first time in a hidden room at a base long destroyed. He knew Optimus was lying when he replied, “I was the senior cadet, sir. Whatever happened was my responsibility.”

Beside Optimus, Sentinel sneered. Magnus turned to look at Sentinel, tone harsher as he directly addressed the all-blue mech. “Anything you’d care to add?”

Sentinel was very quick to add, “No sir.”

Magnus shook his helm, disappointed in both of them, but most of all in his son. “Then you leave me no choice.” He looked at Optimus. “Cadet Optimus, you are hereby… expelled from Autobot Academy, and ineligible for service in the Elite Guard.”

Optimus looked down in defeat.

Magnus continued, the words coming up before he could stop them, “I had hoped that some day you would achieve greatness, perhaps even prove yourself a worthy Magnus. But clearly, being a hero is not in your programming.”

The hurt look in his son’s optics made his spark hurt even moreso. A small part of his spark took a large amount of joy in seeing the jealous expression that crossed Cadet Sentinel’s faceplates. He refused to look directly at Sentinel again, only saying, “Cadet Sentinel, report to Kup for further disciplinary action. I expect the forms he gives you to be signed and placed on my desk before the end of the solar cycle.”

“Yes, Ultra Magnus sir.”

He noted the defeated look in Optimus’s optics as he watched Sentinel saunter away, helm held high. The urge to bop the young mech over the helm with the Hammer was strong, but Magnus fought it down.

“Optimus?” he said quietly to the mech once they were alone.

Optimus looked up at him, blank expression on his faceplates.

“Come with me,” he said softly, tapping the Magnus Hammer lightly on the ground before he turned around and walked away.

He walked down the corridor to one of the ship bays, steeling his resolve, telling himself that it was a terrible idea to tell Optimus the truth just then.

He wanted badly to say something. But what good would that possibly do, especially now?

“What did you see in me, sir?”

They drew closer to the ship bay. Magnus knew that at this hour there wouldn’t be many mechs and femmes milling about.

“I saw myself when I was your age. Much younger, a cadet with bright optics, and a lot more hope for the future than I have now.” Ultra Magnus sighed heavily. “I foresee many great things in your future. It is a shame that I don’t entirely believe that you were the ringleader of this tragic trip. I always knew you had a special spark, Optimus, and your stellar cycles of service have more than proven it. While I can’t reinstate you in the Elite Guard, I was able to pull some strings, and get you your own ship to command.”

Optimus saluted Magnus. He could see that the young bot was excited. “Thank you sir. You won’t regret it.”

Magnus saluted back. “Congratulations, Optimus Prime.”

.-.-.

“-and the usual note at the end of the morning report, as requested,” Cliffjumper checked the datapad again, “all ships that are off world reported back this morning that they are functioning with no problems, Ultra Magnus.

Magnus nodded and dismissed the red minibot, leaning back in his seat when Cliffjumper left the office. He had implemented these morning reports soon after giving Optimus command of his own ship. It was his way of making sure his son was perfectly fine, without giving away how much he truly cared for the young Prime.

He grabbed the nearest stack of datapads, sighing loudly as he ruffled through them, turning them on for a moment and reading the first sentence of each text to determine their relative importance.

None of them needed his particular attention at the moment. Permission slips for the cadets to take off-world jaunts that needed to be approved, a datapad from Longarm Prime reporting on recent Decepticon activity-

Something made him pause. He looked up at the ceiling and searched his processor, wracked his spark, looking for the cause.

Red Alert had called it a carrier’s intuition. It was taking over his processor. Something was wrong with Optimus.

He logged into a communication channel with Sentinel Prime and immediately saw Optimus tersely communicating with the ever-haughty blue mech.

Magnus quietly synched his radar with that of the starship _Orion_ , and was given a shock to see that there was a signal belonging to a Decepticon ship nearby.

“Now how could a third-rate rockbuster possibly merit the Autobot Supreme Commander’s attention?” Sentinel sneered at Optimus, the voice bringing Magnus’s attention back to Optimus.

Magnus saw on the video link how Optimus narrowed his optics and twisted his lipplates in a scowl. “Display cargo hold visual,” he ordered one of his subordinates that was off-screen.

The sight of the AllSpark aboard Optimus’s ship gave Magnus another nasty shock. He collected himself again as Sentinel stammered and his optics went wide at the sight. “I-I’ll put you through right away.”

Magnus came face-to-face with his son for the first time in what seemed to be eons.

“Ultra Magnus here, Optimus. We’re tracking your Decepticon signal.” Though Optimus wouldn’t see the motion, he tapped on the screen of his radar. “Probably just a lost scout ship. Ever since we drove them off Cybertron, the cons have been wandering the periphery. They’d never be so foolish as to invade Autobot space. Still, I’m sending out a strike force to intercept if necessary. Meantime, you and your bots just sit tight. And Prime, don’t try to be a hero. It’s not in your programming.”

He’d only meant to say that in a way to discourage his son from getting into further trouble, but as he shut down the communication link he realized how it sounded.

Terrible.

Just like he felt.

He issued an order for a few ships to head out to the starship _Orion_ ’s location, and did his best to forget what he had said. He had a lot of other things to occupy himself with.

.-.-.

“Sir, we can’t find their ship.”

“They carry the AllSpark aboard.” _And my son_. “Find them at any cost. We need to keep it under control.”

_Where is Optimus? Where is he?_

Magnus kept his emotions under control until he reached his quarters and grabbed his mesh pillow, bringing it to his faceplates and yelling into it.

To say he was terrified would be the understatement of the millennium.

His last words to his son would be telling him to not be a hero.

And it seemed he’d died just doing that, trying to prove him wrong.

.-.-.

“Will I feel it?”

“Will you feel what?”

“If Optimus has gone to join the Well of AllSparks, will I feel it?”

Red Alert was silent as she rummaged around her office, pursing her lipplates as she strung the words together in her processor. “If you both had been together since his birth and he had imprinted on you as being his carrier, and you had done the same and imprinted him as your creation, you would feel his loss rip your spark in half. However, since you both have been separated since a cycle after his birth… no.” She gave Magnus an apologetic look and sighed heavily. “You won’t feel his death if he happens to go offline before you have.”

The Commander of the Autobots looked stricken. Red Alert thought about how she was one of the very few to see the wonderfully stoic Ultra Magnus in a state like this.

He must have felt very comfortable around her to openly express himself.

She came up next to him, putting a servo on his arm. The gesture took her back to a devastated Magnus that had just seen his newspark leave the confines of the medical bay with her assistant, headed for a sparkling home.

“I’m sorry.”

.-.-.

Being the Magnus of the Autobots, he had to keep himself composed in times in trouble and times of grief. He arranged for a funeral service for the lost Autobots, and carried his grief alongside his secret deep in his spark.

It was fifty stellar cycles before the signal of the starship _Orion_ was picked up again. On a faraway planet teeming with water and organics.

But Optimus was alive, and that was what mattered.

When the fear he had held onto for fifty stellar cycles was alleviated, Magnus piloted the _Steelhaven_ to Earth, Sentinel Prime and his bodyguard Jazz aboard. They arrived near the location of the _Orion_ ’s beacon and opened the gangplank to reveal Optimus and his team.

He had never been so glad to see his son.

.-.-.

Sentinel had groaned and complained about staying on Earth this entire time, so it was a bit of a relief to finally hear the younger mech cease his whining when the _Steelhaven_ took flight.

“Thank Primus, Cybertron! Where I don’t have to spray sanitizer in every nook and cranny, and there are no organics crawling around.”

Magnus stole a glance to the large blank screen he was seated in front of, and saw the reflection of Jazz making a motion with his helm that noted he had rolled his optics.

“Oh, but you wanted to stay back there, didn’t you?”

“None of your business Sentinel-”

“Could it be,” Sentinel clapped the cyber ninja on a shoulder strut and sneered, “that you wanted to stay back for the other cyber ninja?”

Jazz repeated in a darker tone, “None of your business.”

“Why, Jazz old buddy,” Sentinel snickered, “you’re in love.”

“Sentinel. It’s none of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business! I’m your superior!”

Magnus had to cut in. “In affairs of the spark, it is no one else’s business Sentinel. Unless it begins to interfere greatly with Jazz and his duties,” he looked back and nodded approvingly at the white and black mech, “you will have to drop the subject and cease harassing him about it.”

Sentinel puffed his chassis and curled his servos into fists.

Magnus wondered why Primus had dealt Sentinel a better servo than his son.

He heard the doors to the room open and close, and he hoped that it was Sentinel that had left. A second glance up at the blank screen negated his hope, as it was Sentinel Prime that stared at his back.

“Is there something wrong, Sentinel Prime?”

The sound of the mech’s footfalls made him dread having to turn around and face him, but he had to do it either way. Magnus stood up from his chair and stepped around, turning to face Sentinel as he came up.

“Sir, I don’t mean to criticize you and your decisions, but why would you allow Optimus to stay behind and look for fragments of the broken AllSpark? We should have brought him back to Cybertron!”

Placing a servo on his hip, Ultra Magnus leveled his gaze at the smaller and younger mech. Sentinel withered under his gaze as Magnus asked, “And what would be the reason for bringing Optimus Prime back to Cybertron? Hmm?”

“F-for insubordination!”

“We have already covered this, Sentinel Prime.” Without looking, Magnus reached out to his left and grabbed the Magnus Hammer, holding it to his side. Sentinel eyed the Hammer warily – the exact reaction he was hoping for. “In the grand scheme of things, Optimus Prime has performed very bravely, and who better to search for the fragments of the AllSpark than one who is most familiar with Earth?”

Sentinel had nothing to say. He only glared at a piece of tile on the floor.

Magnus tapped the Hammer lightly. “And I am normally not one, such as you, to wield my titles over my subordinates but in this instance I will make an exception. I am the appointed Magnus of Cybertron. Decisions I make are final until such time that I decide I was wrong and reverse them.” He motioned toward the door with his symbol of office. “You are dismissed, Sentinel Prime.”

He waited until the blue mech was out and the doors shut to sit down at the console. Magnus laid the Hammer next to him on the floor and held his helm in a servo, sighing loudly.

Allowing Optimus to stay on Earth was really the best choice if they were to also find the rest of the AllSpark. Another reason he allowed for it was because he felt guilty for doubting his son when he’d claimed that there was Decepticon activity again.

Part of the doubt was due to the fact that, he figured out, he still carried the trauma of what had happened. More Decepticon activity meant he might have to come to face Megatron again.

It seemed he was due for further counseling with Rung when they returned to Cybertron.

And this was also putting Optimus into the line of fire.

Wherever Primus was, he sent out an entreaty, asking for Optimus to make it back to Cybertron soon, intact and with a whole AllSpark.

.-.-.

The very last thing he had remembered feeling was pain.

It was on a level that certainly surpassed the pain he’d felt in the throes of emergence.

Longarm Prime, the Intel Chief of the Autobot army, had been the weak link, the double agent that he had been seeking all along. His last vision was of Longarm Prime shifting into Shockwave, loyal follower of Megatron, and bludgeoning him with the Magnus Hammer.

After that his vision went black and he could only remember feeling pain, until it went away.

His last thoughts were of how he had failed, and of Optimus forever being in the dark concerning the truth of his parentage.

He was suddenly roused out of the blissful black, intakes hitching as his optics went out of focus and then refocused.

He was in the Cybertron Central Infirmary.

“Welcome back to the realm of the living, sir.”

It hurt him to do so, but he slowly turned his helm to his right and saw a medic that was definitely not Red Alert. This medic was far gentler in his demeanor than Red Alert, and a lot smaller. Magnus stole a glance downward and noted that the little medic had to stand on a small block to properly reach him.

Then Magnus remembered. This was First Aid.

“Am… I…” Magnus trailed off and tried to sit up, but found an arm stretched across his chassis, forcing him to lie back.

“I’m sorry sir but you need to stay lying down for a bit longer while I run some tests. We put you back together a few solar cycles ago. Now I need to make sure that all your extremities are responding properly.”

Magnus found that he had put his arms up in a defensive position, and slowly lowered his arms.

First Aid laughed. “At least your arms are responding to the commands you send them. Now try your pedes.”

It hurt a bit, but his left leg twitched and slowly lifted up.

“Good! Now the other one.”

Magnus followed suit, lifting his other one up at a slightly faster rate than the one that had recently been reattached.

“Good! With some therapy you’ll be right back to your old self, sir.”

Magnus only nodded and then turned his helm to look at First Aid again. He blinked his optics and tapped his digits on the surface of the berth.

“What has happened since the attempt on my life?”

With nonchalance, First Aid scribbled something on a datapad as he said, “The war’s done.”

The three words stunned Magnus into silence. He shook his helm. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“The war’s done. We won against the Decepticons.”

“How?”

First Aid looked up from the datapad and fumbled with something in his subspace, bringing out a control and activating it. A holographic screen appeared, showing a newscast of a reporter, a horde of bots celebrating, and a line of familiar frames walking down Iacon’s main road toward the highest level prison in the city.

“Optimus… he did this?”

“Yes.” First Aid nodded and turned back to his datapad. “You must be proud.”

Magnus smiled at the video feed of his son wearily but proudly marching at the head of the line, leading the captured Decepticons to their prison. “I am.”

Then his spark dropped.

First Aid picked up on it. “Are you alright, Ultra Magnus?”

“Physically yes. Emotionally, no.”

“For what reason?”

“I could have offlined, taking my secret to the AllSpark. Optimus would never have known the truth.” Magnus placed a servo over his spark, looking at the image of his son on the holo screen. The news footage played over and over again. The live shots of crowds gathering at meeting places around Cybertron were interspersed throughout the replayed footage of Megatron being led away. Drunken revelers hugged and kissed and cried, singing the Autobot anthem in off-key tones.

The little medic said nothing, only working over the Supreme Commander of the Autobots, making certain his systems were functioning as well as they could be.

“Should I tell him?”

“Sir, I don’t think I’m suited to advise you-”

“I need another opinion, First Aid. You were there the moment that Optimus came online in my arms. You… you’re the one that took him to the sparkling home.” Magnus looked at the medic. “Should I tell him?”

First Aid sighed and fiddled with a lever that tilted the berth so Magnus’s helm was closer to the ceiling. He felt the clamp around his waist come undone, allowing him to finally walk off the berth and around the room.

“You should do what your spark says you should do, sir.”

.-.-.

Admittedly, Ultra Magnus had gotten far too used to being recognized when he went out amongst the masses on Cybertron. Pointed digits his way annoyed him, as did the bots whispering his designation in awe. It was eerie to see everyone drunk off their processors and celebrating the end of the war. No one recognized him though, or if they did they kept it to themselves, and for that he was grateful.

Maccadam’s Old Oil House had been reopened, and it seemed as if half of Iacon was there.

Briefly he wondered why he had ventured out of the confines of Fortress Maximus into a gaudy crowd. His office, piled with unread datapads that needed signing, called to him.

He ignored the call and stepped into the oil house, and was immediately greeted by a familiar faceplate.

“Heya Magnus sir!” Kup sat at the bar, raising a cube of shining pink high grade and downing it. “Get over here, I’ll buy ya a few on me.”

Magnus nodded and sat at the empty seat to Kup’s left. He was grateful he wasn’t completely alone in a crowded space.

The bartender came by and, after a credit chip was slid across the table, Magnus was staring down at a bright pink liquid full of additives. He had forgotten at this point in time how much high grade it took for him to become overcharged, and he was wary that it would take just one cube to make that happen.

“So whacha out here for, Ultra Magnus? And where’s your lot of guards?”

“I sent them home. Jazz, especially, needs time to himself.”

“Why ‘specially him?”

“He is in mourning. From what I have been told, his significant other gave up his spark to help us end the war.”

“Ah,” Kup said as he took the cygar out of his mouth and relit it, sticking it back in. “Fraggin’ shame. Talked to him a few times about his other… what was his name? Scowl? No, Prowl, right? Seemed really in love with him, but…”

“The war has cost us all something dearly.”

“Some more than others.”

A small period of silence between the mechs fell as the holographic screens activated inside the oil house. Magnus saw the news footage from a few solar cycles prior of the Autobots triumph, Optimus, disembarking Omega Supreme with the AllSpark around his neck and the Magnus Hammer in his servo.

That reminded him – he really needed to get the Hammer back. He had been told the AllSpark had been put away in safekeeping.

The scene on the holographs elicited a roar from inside the oil house, and outside it as well.

“You’re out here for ‘nother reason, Magnus sir. What is it?”

Before he could stop himself, the Supreme Commander of the Autobots shook his helm and said in a tone that he assumed Kup wouldn’t be able to hear, “I have struggling with my biggest secret since I was roused from my coma, and I felt I needed some time away from Fortress Maximus to reexamine myself.”

“Ah,” Kup nodded and motioned for another drink. After he had been given a cube, he shook it lightly in his servo and grunted, “So what’s this big secret you’ve been carryin’ around?”

Magnus looked at the rest of the gathered Autobots celebrating. They were likely too overcharged to hear him confess his big secret. He stared back down at his drink, sighing. “I carried once. And I gave up my sparkling.”

“Hmm. Not really surprisin’ to me.”

“Did you know?” Magnus quickly asked, failing to keep his panic under wraps. “Who told-”

“No one did. Just guessed, an’ I was right. Sir, Ultra Magnus, have you looked at yourself?” Kup took a swig from his cube of high grade, and Magnus momentarily marveled at how he was able to do so while keeping the cygar in his mouth. “Old trick I learned that turns out to have worked most of the time. Bigger hips on a bot, means they coulda carried at some point.”

For the first time in these many, many stellar cycles, Magnus stole a glance at his lower half and realized that Kup was very much in the right. He felt heat creep up in his faceplates, mortified.

There could be other bots out there that had seen him and made a proper guess.

“Shiftin’ of internal bits and all, makin’ space for a bitlet. Most carriers don’t lose the wider hips after their first emergence cycle an’ all, or so my own carrier said. She was an assistant medic, specialized in sparklin’ births before we stopped producin’ them so often. So, ever know what happened to the bitlet you gave up?”

Magnus looked up at the holographic screens on the walls of Maccadam’s, at Optimus’s weary but triumphant face as he stood before the adoring crowd that cheered Autobot victory.

“He is the reason the war is now over.”

Kup went still and followed the Autobot Commander’s line of sight to the holographic screens. He let out a whistle. “You did good.”

“I did nothing. I had to give him up to keep him safe for the first few stellar cycles of his lifespan.” Magnus gently placed a digit on his still-full cube of high grade and nudged it a few micrometers across the surface of the bar. “He came looking for the war.”

“Hmm, I remember trainin’ him. Optimus Prime.”

Ultra Magnus closed his optics a moment and remembered giving the newsparked bitlet his name before handing him over. The name had been safely tucked away in his spark for eons, his secret to take to his offlining day. Now, it was being thrown around Cybertron as the sparkling he had given up was heralded as a savior and hero.

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’ know what?”

“That I’m the one that gave him up.”

“Do you plan on tellin’ ‘im, sir?”

“I want to. But what would be the point in telling him?” Magnus grabbed the cube again and downed half of it in one go, spark uneasily twisting at the prospect of having to tell Optimus the truth. “He has already gone this long in his life without much influence on my part. He can go further.”

“Well yeah, but I think he’d like to know.” Kup downed the rest of his cube and motioned for the bartender to fork over another one. “If I were in his pedes I’d like to know. Kid’s creators died.”

The Autobot Commander found himself saying through gritted dentae, “ _Adoptive_ creators.”

“Yeesh, alright sir, his _adoptive_ creators.”

“His true, biological creators are very much alive.” Magnus then realized how he had sounded, and shook his helm. “I’m sorry Kup. I am still bitter over my decision to give him up. I know it was for the best to give him a childhood away from me but,” he curled his servos around the edge of the bar, “a part of me regrets having done so.”

“At the risk ah soundin’ like a broken record, you did good gettin’ him away from the army, academy, and the guard for as long as you could. No sparkling should have to grow up around that,” Kup took the cygar out of his mouth, “an’ especially if their creator’s the commander of all the ‘bots. You said “creators”. Who’s the other one?”

“I am not comfortable revealing that particular detail at this moment, Kup.”

“Fair ‘nough.” Kup put the cygar back in his mouth. “Now, it’s time for you ta tell him the truth.”

The holographic screens played the victory march that Optimus and his team had made through the main street of Iacon with the shackled surviving Decepticons towards the prison that currently held them.

The Autobot Commander again pushed away his half-full cube of high grade, his mind made up. “I have something I need to do, before I tell him.”

.-.-.

The prison was currently under the heaviest guard he could recall seeing. Thankfully his position as Magnus allowed him to make his way through all layers of security with relative ease.

The sound of his pedes walking down the corridor rang far too loudly in his audio receptors as a guard led him to the furthest cell in the prison. There were eight guards in front of Megatron’s cell, while Shockwave and Lugnut were given only four.

Red optics looked up and met his as he neared the plasma bars that held the leader of the Decepticons in place.

Magnus nodded at the eight guards that stood at attention, all greeting him with variations of “Welcome, Commander!”

“At ease.” He looked at the Decepticon warlord.

This was the first time they had come faceplate-to-faceplate since that day.

Magnus closed his optics and quelled the memory of the force he had been subjected to. Eons of therapy had helped him come to terms with that had occurred. It still did not mean that seeing Megatron before him was easy. “I ask that the nine of you,” he reopened his optics and looked at the eight guards watching over Megatron, then the one guard that had escorted him down the hallway, “please stand back for a little while. I need to have a private discussion with our prisoner here.”

He heard the sound of someone clearing their vocalizer. “With all due respect Commander,” the guard that had escorted him in replied, “we cannot leave Megatron by himself, and especially not with the recently recovered leader of the Autobots.”

“He won’t be alone. That is why I am asking that you all be on standby, in case he attempts to do something. But I do not want to be listened in on.”

The nine prison guards exchanged glances, but said nothing more as they heeded his order and backed up to another area, murmuring amongst themselves.

Magnus and Megatron leveled their gazes at each other for a while. Megatron’s servos were still in stasis cuffs, and his ankles had been chained to the floor.

Ultra Magnus became aware that he was closing his servos into fists and then reopening them. He ceased and squared his shoulder struts.

Megatron spoke first. “Come to gloat, Supreme Commander?”

“No. And if that had been my purpose, well, I believe the sight of all of Cybertron celebrating your defeat is gloating enough.”

“Yes it is.” Megatron’s red optics dimmed. “You don’t seem particularly happy, I might add.”

“I am. Very, very happy that this war is over.” Magnus placed a servo on one of the walls outside the prison cell, staring hard at the Decepticon warlord. “The Autobots can now go back to our ways of life, not living in fear of a Decepticon attack.”

“Hmm. A noble feeling, Supreme Commander.” Megatron stood from the incredibly small berth he had been sitting on.

Behind him, Magnus could hear the contingent of guards readying their weapons. He stood his ground and only harshened his glare at the Decepticon as he continued, “But I feel your relief is of a more selfish nature, am I correct?”

“If it is selfish to hope that there will be no more war, and no more deaths at your energon-stained servos, then yes. My relief is of a selfish nature.”

Megatron tutted and clicked his glossa against his dentae. “Oh, Autobots. Pretending to have the best interests of the universe at large at spark.”

“Certainly moreso than one that has felt thousands die at his servos.”

“At least the Decepticons don’t pretend to care for others.”

“Yes, but you did pretend for many millions of stellar cycles that you were fighting for some grand, noble cause of freedom, with the intent to replace it with Decepticon tyranny.”

Megatron simply glared.

Magnus could feel the guards leveling their weapons at Megatron, aiming through the gaps between the plasma bars. He made a motion with his servo that gestured for the guards to stand down, and pressed himself closer to the bars so he was micrometers from being shocked by them.

“I am glad,” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words, “that you have been captured. I am glad that the war is over so that Cybertron can begin to heal. So that _I_ can heal as well.” Had the bars been forged of metal, he would have wrapped his servos around them. He settled for lowering his tone of voice. “I still carry the weight of what you did to me, in the early days of my tenure as Magnus. Eons of therapy have allowed me to face you. But I will carry it with me the rest of my lifecycle.”

It took a second, but Megatron seemed to remember. His crimson optics dimmed only a bit further.

“You remember what I am talking about, don’t you?” Magnus hissed.

“I do, Autobot. Of all the things I have done in the war, I am sorry for what I did to you.”

Magnus scoffed. “Thousands of Autobots died by your servo.”

“At least they are dead. What I did to them, the memory died with them. You are not.”

“Almost a shame Shockwave didn’t finish me off when he had the chance, then.” Magnus backed up from the bars of the cell and turned his back to the Decepticon, before he remembered something. He turned to Megatron again. “The Prime that put you in here?”

Megatron tilted his helm to the side.

Magnus inhaled. “He was born shortly after what you did to me. And he has been instrumental in helping me come to terms with it. He is the only good thing that you have created in your long life cycle.”

With that said, and the expression of shock and gradual understanding coming down on Megatron’s faceplates, Magnus turned around and walked out of the prison.

.-.-.

He paced in his office, spark hammering loudly in its chamber.

There was no proper way to come out with the truth. He supposed he might mention that he knew that Optimus had been orphaned and adopted at a very young age. Once he got to talking to the young Prime some more…

Magnus reached into his subspace and pulled out the datapad containing the picture.

A much younger, much more frightened Magnus looking down at a wailing newspark swaddled in a cloth.

If Optimus protested, claimed he was a liar, this was the only evidence he had in his favor.

There was a knock at the door. He stepped over to his desk and pressed a button, watching the door slide open to reveal a familiar red and blue mech.

Optimus held the Magnus Hammer in his servos nervously as he walked in. Magnus nodded at him and pressed the button again, hearing the door slide shut.

A moment of quiet passed between the two of them, the silence far too loud for Magnus. He gave Optimus a small smile. “You proved me wrong.”

“How did I prove you wrong?”

“A long time ago I told you that being a hero was not in your programming. You, the mech that has captured Megatron and brought the Decepticons to face justice. For that, I am proud of you.” Magnus walked over to Optimus and placed a gentle servo on one of his shoulder struts. “Thank you, Optimus Prime.”

Optimus passed the Hammer to one of his servos as he saluted Ultra Magnus. Magnus didn’t salute back. He only held out a servo toward the Hammer. The Prime got the message and handed it over.

It felt good to have the weapon, his symbol of office, back.

“Now that I’ve given you back the hammer, I’ll be on my w-”

“Optimus, I did not call you here solely because I wanted my Hammer back.” Magnus gestured to the two seats that were in front of his desk. “I have some other matters to discuss with you.”

The young Prime looked nervous as he took a seat. Instead of sitting in the chair behind his desk, Ultra Magnus sat down in the empty seat in front of Optimus.

“I want to tell you that I am sorry for how I have treated you these past stellar cycles. Reflecting upon my behavior, I’ve noted that I can be… harsh and unforgiving. You have taken it all in stride.”

Optimus joined his servos and placed them on his lap, looking down at them. “I do tend to mess up a lot, sir. Capturing Megatron was a once-in-a-life cycle thing. Even so, Sentinel is yelling at me for not doing it with a proper plan.”

“Sentinel Prime has no right to criticize you. He, frankly, is a failure at his post. The only reason we keep him around is because, well…” Magnus sighed and wiped a servo over his forehelm. “Sometimes he knows the law better than I do. Regardless, I am sorry for the way I have acted towards you.”

Optimus’s lipplates turned slightly upward into a smile. “I… accept your apology.”

“And secondly…” Magnus mulled over his words, wondering how he was going to phrase this. He blinked his optics. “I know you came from a harsh background. You lost your creators at a young age, and you signed up to fight against the Decepticons in retaliation.”

A dark shadow came over Optimus’s faceplates. He looked down at a patch of floor and sighed. “Yeah, I did. I loved them a lot. I miss them.”

“I imagine they’re in the Well, looking at you, proud of you.” Magnus sighed. He had to say it. “I know they were your adoptive creators.”

Optics flashed a dark blue at him, and there was a warning tone in Optimus’s voice as he said, “Just because they adopted me, doesn’t mean that they’re any less my creators.”

“That is not what I intended to say. My reason for stating that is… Optimus, I know this will be very difficult to believe.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Your biological carrier is seated in front of you.”

A very poignant silence befell them. Optimus stared at the older mech with a confused expression on his faceplates. Then he seemed to realize what Ultra Magnus, Supreme Commander of the Autobots, was implying.

Magnus watched the expression on his son’s faceplates of confusion turn to one of distress. Optimus got out of the seat, standing up, clenching and unclenching his servos.

“How?” the red mech managed to say as his intakes heaved. He looked on the verge of tears.

Curling on servo into a fist, Magnus sighed. “The beginning of the war. I saw a great many things that I wouldn’t wish on others, and experienced things that I wouldn’t wish on my greatest enemies.”

“You don’t have proof.” Optimus quickly shook his helm and Magnus was about to retort in anger when the young Prime continued, “The Ultra Magnus I know, if he really had been my carrier, wouldn’t have given me up.”

He was beginning to regret this. He set his mouth in a firm line. “The Ultra Magnus you know,” he got to his pedes and glared harshly at the little red and blue mech, “gave you up, and did so to save your life.”

Before Optimus could try to dismiss him again, Magnus reached for the small datapad on his desk, hidden among stacks of larger datapads that vied for his attention. He held it in his servos, the small size betraying the true weight he felt when holding it. Turning it on, he took a look at the photo capture before he handed it over.

Magnus saw the young Prime eye the pad warily as he took it in one servo.

Far too long passed before the expression of doubt turned to one of realization. He noted how Optimus’s servos began to shake as well.

He remembered the fear he felt, holding a datapad about that size at one time so long ago. The text within had changed his life.

Optimus reached into his subspace and brought out a datapad that was about medium sized, somewhere between the size of the photo and the size of the datapads stacked on Magnus’s desk. He handed it to his superior with shaking servos.

When Magnus turned it on, he saw another picture of Optimus. Small, crying, swaddled in a dark blue sheet.

His felt a twinge in his spark when he realized it same one that his son had been wrapped in when he’d been taken away from him. The picture had to have been taken the exact same solar cycle.

“That’s a copy of my file from the sparkling house. My creators gave it to me a few decacycles before they offlined.” His servos stopped shaking and Optimus tightened his grip on the small datapad. Ultra Magnus felt the bright blue optics of his son watch him as he gently swiped a digit across the screen. “It’s… it’s the only one left. The house doesn’t exist anymore. Solarwind offlined before my creators did and the remaining sparklings were sent elsewhere.”

He came to another photo capture of a pair of beautiful, happy femmes holding onto a much happier-looking sparkling Optimus.

“Nitrate and Solarflare. Those were their names.”

Scribbles in crude penmanship came up on the next page.

_> Day One_

_> >> He arrived just as the sedative was beginning to wear off. The assistant medic that _[redacted] _sent told me that this sparkling is called Optimus._

_My spark breaks for the carrier. From what I know they would have taken great care and been a great carrier to this sparkling. I understand why their son was given up, however. They are surrounded by war. War is no place for a sparkling._

_Optimus is perfectly healthy. I would say he is happy but he is not._

_He has not ceased crying since the sedative wore off. He awakened in my arms, whimpering. He flared out his electromagnetic fields and when he did not sense that his carrier was around he began to whimper even more loudly and cried._

_> Day Four_

_> >>He misses his carrier._

_I advise carriers who intend on surrendering their sparklings to do little bonding, preferably none, with their creations, to make the transition easier._

[Redacted] _informed me that it was the carrier that gave Optimus his name. It was not a code name or a nickname to call the sparkling by until such a time came that he was placed in a permanent home._

_That does not bode very well. A carrier giving a sparkling a name in the first place notes that they bonded, which is exactly what I informed the carrier through the medic to not do._

_Either the medic did not relay my message, or the carrier disregarded me._

_Optimus’s cries have subsided to longing whimpers. He looks around with dazed optics at each full grown figure that bypasses him, hope in his spark that it is his carrier._

_> Day Eleven_

_> >>His carrier wants him back._

[Redacted], _the assistant that brought Optimus here in the first place,_ _sent a message from_ [Redacted] _, informing me that Optimus’s biological carrier missed him so much and that they wanted to go back on their word. They were willing to go through the process to make it seem as if it were an adoption._

_Quite honestly I was prepared and happy to allow this to happen. However I believe I made a mistake in sending a message to the medic that delivered Optimus, for Optimus’s carrier never followed up on their message._

_I don’t know what happened. But my spark breaks looking at Optimus._

_He is no longer crying or whimpering. He is, however, the most listless and daresay it, depressed sparkling I have come across._

_If it were in my power I would give him back immediately and erase any trace of Optimus ever being here._

_> Day Fifteen_

_> >>My sister and her bondmate came for a visit and were immediately enchanted by Optimus. He even seemed to brighten up a little bit._

_I hope this bodes well._

_> Day Eighteen_

_> >>He has been adopted._

_It hasn’t been finalized, of course. That takes about a decacycle._

_Solarflare and Nitrate took him home today. He wasn’t the bounciest and happiest sparkling, but he seemed far happier than I have seen him in his short little life._

_There won’t be a need to update this any further, but I will have to keep it for records. I will make a copy of it and give it to my sister._

_Should Optimus read this at some point in the future – I wish you the very best._

Magnus had no idea that he was crying until optical fluid dripped onto the screen of the datapad. He looked up and saw that Optimus was sitting again, clutching the datapad that held the real first photograph taken of him. The only photograph in existence of him and his carrier.

Tears streamed down the young mech’s faceplates. He looked up and whispered, “Why?”

The Commander did not need to ask for further clarification. He knelt in front of the Prime and placed his free servo on a shaking shoulder strut.

“I had a merge forced on me in the midst of battle.” The chain that bound his arms above his helm, the weight of a Decepticon frame on his, a spike shoving and spilling in his unwilling valve, the force that was used to pry his chassis apart… he could still feel it. Magnus shook his helm and inhaled. “It took no time for Red Alert to confirm that I was carrying. I was newly appointed to the position of Magnus. I was not prepared to raise a sparkling, but I couldn’t bring myself to terminate. So I carried you, intending to give you up to a home for younglings to keep you away from the war.

“Unfortunately I bonded with you during the carrying cycle. I did not mean to.” Magnus recalled lying down in his berth, running his servos over his abdominal plating to elicit happy kicks and pulses from the sparkling he carried. He remembered the contented feeling the sparkling emitted when he read to him. The sparkling seemed to take much comfort in the sound of his voice. “I read to you, tapped at you to hear you tap back, and I spent my time talking to you though you could not understand what I was saying. I cried when you were placed in my arms for the first time. I gave you your name. “Optimus”, I said. For the best thing to come out of the nightmare I was living at the time was you.”

Optimus stared at him with glassy optics, chassis slowly rising up and down.

“I felt deep affection for you before, but the moment you gave your first cry, I knew I loved you. When you wrapped your servo around my digit… I felt I was making a mistake. I wanted to keep you with me. I changed my mind, but it was far too late and far too dangerous for you to stay with me. So,” Magnus removed his servo from Optimus’s shoulder strut and inhaled, “that is why I surrendered you.”

The young mech did nothing, only stared at Magnus, his carrier, with wide optics and a slackened expression on his faceplates.

Magnus looked down at the datapad in his other servo and gave it to Optimus, who returned it to his subspace and gave Magnus back his small datapad.

“My entire life cycle,” Optimus finally spoke, voice thick with a mixture of emotions, “I was angry at my carrier for giving me up. I thought they had another reason for giving me up. I thought they didn’t want me.”

“Believe me, Optimus,” Magnus sighed, “I wanted to keep you. Not a solar cycle went by that I did not think of you and miss you deeply.”

It came as a surprise when Optimus threw himself at Magnus, wrapping his arms tightly around his chassis and burying his face next to Magnus’s spark.

Magnus hesitated a moment. Then he wrapped his arms around Optimus as well, placing his helm on the young mech’s helm.

There were no words that were currently in existence that could fully describe how he felt in this moment. Optimus shook in his embrace, tightening the grip of his arms around Magnus’s frame. The Supreme Commander of the Autobots found himself rubbing the young mech’s backplates, digits tapping a familiar rhythm on Optimus’s backstruts. The tapping made the younger mech’s intakes hitch.

Magnus was aware of his intakes hitching as well. Optical fluid dripped onto Optimus’s helm.

Having kept his electromagnetic field hidden from others for millions of stellar cycles, it took a few long moments before Ultra Magnus let it envelop the young mech that he held in his arms.

Optimus began to sob, crying into his carrier’s chassis, “M-my creators didn’t have the comforting fields, the tapping rhythm, or the s-spark pulses that I s-sought out for my entire life cycle.” Magnus felt the shaking subside. “I’ve been looking for that lullaby that was so old that only my spark could remember it.” Optimus’s voice died to a whisper as he said, “I thought I was never going to find it.” Bright blue optics looked up at Magnus, swimming with tears but full of trust… and love.

After a moment’s silence Optimus whispered, “All this time I’ve served as your subordinate I took comfort in the sound of your voice. This explains so much.”

Magnus smiled through his tears and repeated the motion he had done so long ago, kissing his son on the top of his helm.

.-.-.

“How did he take the news?”

Magnus watched as Red Alert took his vital signs and assessed his ability to move. She was still grumbling under her breath about him having downed high grade so soon after his release from the Infirmary, despite him stating that it was only half a cube and therefore not a terrible amount to have drank.

“He seemed to accept it after I explained why I did what I did.” The words that the young Prime had spoken came flooding back, and Magnus sighed. “He is happy to have one creator alive. He told me he never thought he would have a creator figure in his life again, let alone the one that actually gave him life.”

“I’m so glad you got that off your spark, sir.” Red Alert whacked the knee joint on the leg that had once been severed, and snorted when Magnus let out a surprised noise and involuntarily kicked. “So that leg’s good,” she muttered, tapping something into a datapad that was on the berth next to Magnus. “How are you going to inform the rest of those under your command? There will be a lot of talk, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“For one, you let your son make the jump from a Cadet to a Prime, bypassing the Minor and Major ranks. Some of your subordinates, especially Sentinel Prime, complained that you were obvious in your favoritism, but now the accusations of favoritism will become nepotism.”

Magnus had indeed thought of that. Optimus had expressed that fear, after asking him if their relation was why he had been allowed to skip being a Minor and a Major.

“I will let them talk. But, I will have this to say in my defen- _ow_!” he was cut off when Red Alert jammed a needle into his shoulder strut.

“Don’t mind this, you’re still a bit low on good energon so this should give you a boost for today’s ceremony. Continue.”

“In my defense, during his entire career under my command I would have loved to do nothing but send him away. I did this to protect him from the war. My reasoning for making him Prime was to give him command of a ship and to send him to the outer reaches of Autobot holdings, an area where there was little Decepticon activity. I hoped that the Decepticons wouldn’t find him.” Magnus sighed in relief as the needle was taken out, and he inserted his smaller digit in between armor plates to rub where Red had stuck him.

He saw Red Alert purse her lipplates as she disposed of the syringe and needle. After a moment she spoke. “I know you told him you saw him in the position of Magnus, a little farther into the future. With you being revealed as his carrier, his chances of actually obtaining that status are lower. If he ever becomes Optimus Magnus the system will be seen as flawed and not fair, because you will be thought to have persuaded the selectors to choose him over other candidates.”

“If Optimus receives the office of Magnus once I retire, it will be of his own doing. But for now, he is a Prime. And we will not be speaking of this to anyone, Red Alert. At least, not for a while. As far as Cybertron knows for now, he lost his adoptive creators, and his true creators are unknown.”

Red Alert sighed. “Fine. You’re ready to go, sir.”

.-.-.

The crowd cheered loudly at the sight of Optimus Prime when he emerged from the dark halls of Fortress Maximus, smiling at them. All optics were on him – no love was spared for Sentinel, now demoted from Acting Magnus back to the rank of Prime.

Magnus, even in the dark and in his place behind Sentinel in the procession, could tell that the blue mech was scowling. Sentinel took his place on the opposite side of the podium, refusing to look Optimus in the optics even when the red mech turned his helm and tried to smile at him.

When Magnus stepped into the sunlight, the volume of the crowd increased and all optics turned to him, eagerly awaiting the Magnus’s official declaration that the war was over.

Some had seen Magnus that night that Megatron had been captured, wandering into the oil house and conversing with another Elite Guardsmech, but this was the first time that the recovered Supreme Commander was seen by all Cybertron. It was a very different image than the one that Sentinel had used in his propaganda spree during his short term as Acting Magnus.

After having seen the image of himself, frail and broken, that had been broadcast around Cybertron, he had called Sentinel in and had words with him.

“Words” meaning that he had warned Sentinel that he was getting on his last nerve and would be demoted to Major if he screwed up again.

Magnus stepped up to the podium, holding the Magnus Hammer close. He turned to look at Sentinel and saw that his subordinate was blatantly ignoring him. When he turned to look at Optimus, he saw that the Prime had a great smile on his faceplates.

The crowd wasn’t quieting down. It only took a moment for them to do so when he raised the Hammer to the sky.

.-.-.

“I don’t know if you want to tell me, but,” Optimus looked down at his pedes right as Ultra Magnus turned his helm to look at him, “you said I was born from a forced merge. Who was the other bot?”

Magnus twisted his lipplates and stared at his son, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him the true identity of his sire.

Below and in the distance of the plateau they both sat near the edge of, Iacon shone brightly. It had been five solar cycles since the end of the war, and the Iaconians still insisted on celebrating.

The whooping and chants of the Autobot anthem were so loud that Magnus could still hear it, even in his innermost office. When he had had enough of the celebratory mood he had sent a message to the young Prime, asking if he wanted to join him on a drive.

The reply came quickly. ::Yes, carrier::

It felt good to his old and weary spark to be called that.

The plateau was the sensible place. They could have some privacy, away from the harsh lights of Iacon and the rest of the population.

“I understand if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. But I am not certain how you will take it.”

“Just tell me.”

Magnus sighed and closed his optics. “It was Megatron.”

There was a long silence. When he reopened them, he found Optimus looking at him, and became aware of the younger mech’s servo resting over his.

“I got him for you. For my adoptive carriers, for Prowl, for all the Autobots that offlined by his servo, and now for you.”

Magnus sighed. “Justice will be served, that I am sure of. As I told him, with him now captured, Cybertron can now begin to heal.”

Optimus gave him a strange look. “Does he know?”

“Yes. I told him when I visited him the night he was captured and put in prison. When I said I gave you up to protect you, it was Megatron that I tried to protect you from.” Magnus placed a servo over his faceplates and sighed. “So when you were selected for training, and when I saw you that day on the field, I felt afraid.”

“I, uh, remember that you looked concerned, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

“That was why. As I told Red Alert later that solar cycle when she confirmed my worst fear, I gave you up to protect you from the war, not to have you come looking for it.” Magnus removed the servo from his faceplates. “Now that the war is over and I look back on my life cycle, I think giving you up was pointless. I think I could have still taken care of you until you could have done so yourself.”

“Actually no. Megatron would have heard about a sparkling running around with Ultra Magnus and he might have made an assumption and… tried to take me.”

He’d failed to take that into consideration in that moment. Magnus chuckled bitterly. “Indeed. Giving you up was then the best thing I could do for you at the time, Optimus.” He stared at the lights of Fortress Maximus far in the distance.

“Who else knows? That you are my carrier?”

“Red Alert was the first. Solarwind was the second as Red Alert had to tell him _why_ you were being given up. First Aid, back when he was Red Alert’s assistant medic. Red Alert and First Aid were present at your emergence.” Magnus felt himself smile at the memory, which he noted was now tinted with far less remorse and sadness than it used to be. “Kup learned the night that Megatron was captured, when I began to express my hesitance to reveal the truth to you. He told me I should tell you.”

Optimus laughed softly. “I’ll have to thank him for that.”

“Yes, you do. Otherwise I would still be carrying such a heavy secret, and you would still be carrying anger at me. The secrets we carry in our sparks can have such a heavy weight. I… I hope you find it in your spark to forgive me, Optimus.”

Optimus pulled himself closer to his carrier and laid his helm over his spark, closing his optics. Magnus looked down at his son and smiled, closing his own optics as their electromagnetic fields mingled, syncing after millions of stellar cycles apart.

He heard a faint voice whisper, “I’ve already forgiven you.”


End file.
